


The Lonely Girl and The Mermaid

by Calebski



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Other, mermaid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 06:43:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17657903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calebski/pseuds/Calebski
Summary: Hermione was eleven when she first saw the mermaid. [Hermione Granger x Mermaid] [One-Shot]





	The Lonely Girl and The Mermaid

Hermione was eleven when she first saw the mermaid.

She had been running away from the castle she now called home, trying to escape the cruel things the other children were saying about her. There had been no relief within the grey stone walls, and so she had removed to the grounds. The grassy area in front of the large entrance hall doors was peaceful in the twilight; the silence soothed Hermione’s battered, adolescent heart.

Following a well-worn path away from the noise, Hermione caught a glimmer of light dancing at the corners of her vision, it was one of those sparkles that she expected to be gone as soon as she blinked, perhaps brought on by a tear she hadn’t notice escape, but it didn’t, it grew brighter. It came from the vast expanse of water, the Black Lake her favourite book had called it, reflecting the setting sun. Walking towards the captivating beams, Hermione found herself on the lakes closest bank, where the lush grass gave way to brittle stones as the constant ebb of water beat the ground.

As she looked out across the calm pool the surface rippled. At first, just one circle appeared, tiny in its origin before it expanded out into the farthest reaches of Hermione’s sight. It was joined by more and more ripples until a body slowly emerged, rising from the watery barrier with grace and poise.

Hermione became rigid as first a head and then a torso became clear, until she knew what, or rather, whom she was looking at. The mermaid, for that's who it was, didn't look like the ones she had seen on the telly at home, in stories about beautiful princesses of the deep that gave up everything for love. The mermaid didn’t look like the pictures she had seen in the Hogwarts library either. Those decaying books had painted the mermaids as savage creatures, unthinkably repulsive to human eyes and unfathomable to human minds. Neither was an accurate representation. Not even close. Though, Hermione supposed, as she cocked her head to the side, the mermaid’s appearance made more sense this way.

There was no voluminous, brightly-coloured hair or insubstantial bra made of shells. There was no blood lining its mouth or sword at its waist. Instead, the mermaid was a pale green, and the colour covered every inch of its scale-like shimmering skin. She had the long hair, ample tresses that floated down her back, but it resembled seaweed and clung together in matted waves that framed her face and large dark eyes. Hermione imagined how the mane would come to life underwater as if animated by magic. So much like her own.

The mermaid regarded her impassively, her eyes were little more than large black pools devoid of light that made it difficult to distinguish emotion, but Hermione was not afraid.

Hermione thought the mermaid was beautiful.

The mermaid had been minding her own business taking a lap of the lake to enjoy the setting sun when she had seen the lonely girl, and something had pulled her to investigate further. Humans rarely got that close to the water, and the mermaid had not seen one for many years, it was enough to pique her curiosity. Still, it was a strange and unknown impulse, one she did not fully understand. The mermaid didn't generally have time for humans. Their woefully fragile bodies and fleeting lives held little interest for a being such as herself, and typically she was even more scornful of their young; audacious, mean, little things that had no respect for the age of the land around them or the knowledge it held. No. They were only interested in themselves, and, in some instances, each other.

When the girl tentatively sat down, crossing her legs neatly, the mermaid moved as close to the bank as she was able and smiled, doing her best to hide her jagged teeth.

This human looked different from most of the others. The lonely girl’s skin was bright and clear, and her hair bounced around her face, almost obscuring her delicate nose and large eyes. This girl appeared thoughtful and quiet, peaceful even. The mermaid liked that. When the mermaid had unexpectedly emerged from the water the girl hadn’t thrown stones or gasped in shock, she hadn’t asked questions or moved as if to touch, as if the whole world belonged to her. The mermaid liked that. This little human had pain behind her eyes. It didn’t dance and hide like fish amongst coral, it stood out vividly, reflecting in every angle of her dark brown gaze until it drowned out everything else. The mermaid liked that.

The mermaid spoke with the lonely girl as much as she was able, it had been a long time since she’d had reason to use their language. The words of man were claggy and stilted on her tongue. The little human introduced herself.

“Her… mi… own... ee,” the mermaid tried, the word unfamiliar in her gilled throat.

The lonely girl, Hermione, smiled and as she did so, she tried to hide her own teeth, large pearly shimmers of white that pressed into her bottom lip. The mermaid promised herself she would practice, she wanted to see that smile again.

Hermione asked the mermaid what her name was, but the mermaid did not have one. She watched the girl’s face pinch in surprise, and the mermaid suppressed a laugh. Humans were so predictably hung up on ways of address; names, titles and the like. The mermaid’s ways were different. In the deep waters of the lake she called home you became known by deeds, scars on your body and food for your neighbours. She didn’t expect the lonely girl to understand, so she did not try to explain.

Perplexed by the unfamiliar situation Hermione called out, “What should I call you?”

“Why does it matter?” the mermaid responded, and after a moment of silence, the little girl nodded.

Why did it? Hermione agreed to herself. It was only them, and it wasn't like she would tell anyone; it wasn't like she had anyone to tell.

* * *

Hermione rushed down to the lake, her movements erratic and jumpy as she released all of the suppressed panic and fear she had been holding onto for days, weeks even. She fell to the shingle covered ground and looked out at the still water willing her mind to clear; she just needed to think. If she could get to the bottom of this everything would be okay. The boys needed her to figure it out. She wasn’t brave like them; she couldn’t fight. She was the scholar, so she required knowledge. It was her worth.

She started at the mermaid’s appearance; it had been such a long time since Hermione had seen her, she knew it was a her now. How she knew it was the same mermaid, her mermaid she wasn't sure, she just did. Hermione wondered if all of the students from the castle looked the same to the creatures of the lake, she hoped not. She wondered how old the mermaid was, she wondered if she had a family, she wondered hundreds of things. But she never asked.

The mermaid looked at the lonely girl, taking in her rumpled appearance and the rapid rise and fall of her chest. “What is wrong?” she asked.

Hermione felt comforted like she always did by the mermaid’s voice, though it gave little away. The mermaid’s voice was sphinx-like, emotionless but enthrallingly melodic. It raised devotion, but it never gave hope. It was as enigmatic as the mermaid herself.

When the girl did not immediately reply the mermaid tilted her head to the side and regarded her unblinkingly. It was enough to break what little remained of the girl’s resolve.

Words tumbled from Hermione’s lips, all of them fighting to get out without regard for a comprehensible order; the unknown creature in the castle, the bodies in the hospital wing, people believing the blame of her friend. By the time she finished the air around them had stilled, and Hermione felt sure not a single leaf was moving as far as the eye could see.

“It will come for you,” the mermaid said her words as sure as prophecy. “You must be careful.”

Hermione nodded, “I will,” she promised.

* * *

The next time Hermione came to the bank the mermaid was already there, waiting. Though her facial features did not react in the same way as a human, she knew her mermaid was angry.

“Hermione,” she began as she moved closer, “you said would be careful.”

“I know I-”

“-You were not careful,” the mermaid interrupted tonelessly.

Hermione’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She did not try to explain. The mermaid did not care for explanations or rationalisations, only actions.

The mermaid regarded Hermione for a long time before she shifted in the water, ‘sitting’ in her own haphazard way as her tail rested against the lake floor. Hermione lifted her hand to catch the light that glistened as it bounced off the mermaid’s large scales, sending shots of glitter all over her skin.

“There are many things, beings, in the castle that should not be there, this is true most of the time, but this year more than ever. You will try harder next time.”

Hermione was perplexed by the words but agreed anyway; she hated the mermaid being angry with her. For so long she’d had no one, the mermaid had been the only one to care about her at all, in her own unique way. She would not hurt her unless she absolutely could not help it.

When Hermione finally went back up to the castle, their disagreement long forgiven, but not forgotten, the mermaid stayed to watch, waiting waist high in the cool water, even after the large doors closed behind her lonely girl.

The stars had long been twinkling in black in the sky when the mermaid finally ripped her eyes away from a brighter light, one high up in the closest stone tower, where the lonely girl lived, where she could not follow.

* * *

The mermaid had not moved for several hours, not since the scouts had returned. Each of the soldiers had been holding a child of man that the merfolk had been asked to hold ‘hostage’ in their sacred village. The mermaid had been surprised at the Elder’s decision to let this go ahead, and she was not alone in finding Dumbledore offensive for even asking. She had been scornful of the very idea of a competition for survival, but she never thought too long on the idiosyncrasies of man.

The mermaid had intended to keep herself at a distance, removed from the entire charade until she realised that the lonely girl, her Hermione, was one of the ‘captured’ students. The sight of her bound hands and feet made the mermaid’s fingers stretch into claws, and her teeth felt sharper as her anger soared. She ached to release the ropes, but she had been forbidden from touching.

After remaining motionless for a time the mermaid felt calmer, her body and mind soothed by the gentle current as they always were. After an hour had passed, she was almost able to regard the girl impassively. Almost.

It was strange to observe Hermione underwater, to watch the gentle stream of bubbles that left her mouth every few seconds. Her very breathing gave away how ill-equipped she was to survive in the mermaid’s realm. What would she have looked like with gills? It was no more and no less than the sum of every dream she’d ever had realised. But when faced with the reality, the mermaid hated it.

The mermaid stood guard as other merfolk began to circle in anticipation, she tried not to think of the approaching time limit. Instead, she focused on Hermione’s hair, the vast cloud of curls that swayed behind the girl in the gentle, deep waters. She could not see the individual strands down here, or make out the differing colours. It all hung in a brown mass, rather than flying off as it did when blown by a soft breeze.

The mermaid focused on Hermione’s hair as the boy came, his face mutated into that of a predator, or, maybe, revealed? The mermaid watched as he touched, and as he took her away.

This boy had not been forbidden by his people, or, probably, not even by Hermione herself. The mermaid wondered why the lonely girl had never mentioned the boy before, and then she quickly chased the thought away. The mermaid did not like it.

* * *

As the mermaid approached their bank, she found her lonely girl, and she was crying. Though she knew in her heart that Hermione was an ‘emotional human’, tears in their acquaintance were irregular. The mermaid had seen her stalk back and forth in rage and heard her words hitch as she struggled to get them out in proper order, but water flowing from her eyes, from deep inside of her, was rare.

It felt like a gift.

Hermione looked different, standing in the twilight. Gone were the school robes of dull, heavy, unmoving fabrics, replaced by a glittering blue dress that fell over her pale skin like waves, with a lustre that highlighted the tear tracks gliding down her face.

She looked distinctive.

She shimmered.

Almost like….

“What is wrong?” the mermaid asked softly.

The mermaid’s inquiry made Hermione cry more until she gathered herself enough to sob out an explanation. Her answer was faltering, and the words were as nonsensical to the mermaid as the manner in which they had been presented. The mermaid tried to follow Hermione’s tale of dancing and boys, crossed words and feelings, but it was from another world.

The only thing she had to give was her silence.

Stars had begun twinkling in the sky, and still the lonely girl was not happier. “Hermione,” the mermaid said gently, trying something, she had practised and could say it perfectly now, but the name was not enough to make the girl smile any more.

The lonely girl was no longer little.

The mermaid glanced over her watery face and remembered a time long ago when the girl in front of her had been cross with one of her friends. They had debated, as much as they were able, about how you should treat people. ‘Honesty is the most important thing you can give someone’ the girl had said. The mermaid decided to follow her edict.

“You are beautiful, Hermione.”

This time the mermaid was rewarded with a smile for her efforts. It was smaller than the first she had ever received - that one had stretched across Hermione’s whole face and burnt itself into the mermaid’s memory. However, this one lingered even as Hermione’s cheeks turned a dull shade of pink, as her large brown eyes shyly fell to the ground. The mermaid thought this smile was just as lovely and harder won.

* * *

Hermione’s progress to the lake was slow, the wound that had been viciously cut across her body sent pain shooting through her with every step she took, but she had been determined to get outside. So she ignored the burning in her limbs and breathed in the fresh air as deeply as her restricted, lacerated chest would allow.

The mermaid was already there when she got to the water’s edge, waiting. Hermione always meant to ask how she seemed to know when she was coming, but she never did, it wasn't really important as long as she was there.

As Hermione lowered herself to the ground the untried movement caused pain to radiate through her chest, and she released an involuntary sound; half groan, half sob and the mermaid flinched.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said, half apology, half plea, “I wasn't careful again.”

Silence fell around them for the longest time, and Hermione let herself relax in the mermaid’s reassuring company until the mermaid moved one hand lightly through the surface of the lake, using the disturbance of the water to get Hermione’s attention.

The mermaid’s wide eyes looked back at her, but they did not seem reproachful. “Show me,” she said finally.

“No,” Hermione immediately insisted, she did not want her to see. Her mermaid had told her she was beautiful once; she couldn't let her see the twisted wound that now ripped across her body. “No,” she repeated. Hermione had once proudly thought of herself as devoid of vanity, that had been before.

“Please,” the mermaid said and held her hand out to reach for the lonely girl.

Hermione stared at the proffered hand for a long time before slowly getting back on her feet and taking it within her grasp. She never could deny a direct request from the mermaid, especially when she remembered to use the human manners Hermione had told her of long ago.

The mermaid’s hand was cold and surprisingly dry, and the flow of her blood must have been close to her skin as Hermione could feel the mermaid’s pulse flutter through her elongated fingers.

Hermione moved towards the water’s edge and into the lake, submerging her feet and then her knees until she was up to her waist, just like the mermaid. It was strange to be so close to her after all this time — strange, terrifying and oh so beautiful. The mermaid’s skin was even more dazzlingly when regarded in close proximity.

Even though Hermione felt she had grown accustomed to the world of magic, her mermaid was still like an unbelievable dream. Sometimes after leaving her, Hermione would think it was all a dream, but then she would get ready for bed and catch a hint of something on her shirts, a subtle smell, like waves and coral, and she would know the truth.

She concentrated on the mermaid's hair, on how it flowed in the gentle breeze, as slim fingers pulled the buttons on her shirt free. She did not shift her gaze even as the afternoon breeze hit her chest. Hermione fixed her eyes on the setting sun, as the cool, delicate touch she had imagined for the longest time found its way to her torso. The mermaid traced the savage line that had been left there by someone who hated Hermione, someone who had decided the world was a better place if she was dead before they had so much as looked at her properly. She wasn't aware she was crying until the mermaid reached her fingers up to her face, and the soft pads wiped away the fresh water that spilt from her body.

“You are beautiful, Hermione,” the mermaid said, her voice chiming around them like a song.

Hermione shut her eyes, and more tears fell. Tears that flowed and joined the body of water she was immersed in - tears that became part of the mermaid’s home, and part of her soul.

* * *

“I’m leaving,” Hermione declared breathlessly before even coming to a full halt. “It won't be safe for me next year, and I have to help Harry.”

The mermaid regarded her discomposed girl and wondered at the passage of time. Typically it moved in a way that affected the mermaid so very little. But now it seemed to be conspiring against her.

“When will you be back? The mermaid asked in her soft, impassive voice.

“I don’t know.”

Hermione hated the response, but it was the only one she had.

* * *

The mermaid looked on helplessly as the battle raged on as far as the eye could see. It had spilled out onto the grounds as the morning light still shone, as witches and wizards darted about and littered the innocent grass with their violence. Hours it had been continuing. Ongoing time as endless plumes of smoke lit up by spellfire polluted the sky and shouts of victory and defeat split the air.

Then, finally, she saw her, her lonely girl.

Hermione was smaller than before, and the mermaid’s wide eyes drank in the changes, recategorising her every feature.

Hermione’s hair cascaded around her as she sprinted across the field, shouting spells over her shoulder. Two men in robes of the darkest black were in pursuit, and the mermaid moved forward to the very tip of the water's edge. She could do nothing else; she could get no closer.

When Hermione knocked one of her pursuers off their feet, the mermaid sighed with relief, but it was too soon.

Distracted by her momentary success, Hermione did not prepare for the other man’s attack, the mermaid could only watch from far, so far away, as a shocking green light illuminated the darkening skies around them.

The mermaid tried to scream but her gills would not allow it, she lurched forward but the lake was spent, her shimmering body landed on the bank with a dull thud.

It took an age for her to reach the lonely girl, and every movement of the earth against her skin lanced her delicate scales with white-hot heat, but still she did not stop.

When she made it, the mermaid pulled herself over Hermione’s torso, her hands reaching for her face and then her hair.

She held onto the wayward tresses as the lonely girl got cold and the sky darkened, she held onto her as her own breath slowed and her vision faded, she held onto her as she fulfilled her final living wish; never again would her lonely girl go to a place she could not follow.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: February 2019 this fic has been updated. Thank you for taking a chance on a weird pairing! Hope you enjoyed.


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